Page 73 of Twisted (Never After)

“Martial arts, I guess.”

My brows shoot to my hairline as I take him in. “You do martial arts?”

He nods, his chin tucking into his chest before he looks back up at me. “Since I was a little kid.”

It’s not surprising, really. His movements are fluid, and his aura is always calm, in control. A smile slowly appears on my face.

“Will you show me something?”

He chuckles and straightens, walking toward me. He doesn’t stop until he’s directly in front of me, his hand reaching out to draw a fingertip down the side of my face.

His touch sends goose bumps down the length of my body. “Maybe later, if you’re a good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and raspy.

My stomach flips.

“What are you doing here anyway?” I ask, trying to redirect the conversation and ignore the way he’s able to make my body go haywire. “I was starting to forget you even lived here, you’re gone so much.”

“I came home for you,” he says simply.

My stomach jumps, and I fucking hate myself for it. “Why?”

He steps forward, clean linen and spice hitting my nostrils when he gets close. “Because, gattina, I’m going to teach you how to drive.”

Chapter26

Yasmin

“What do youmean?If I don’t stare at the road, how do I know where to drive?” I cry out, frustrated and half- convinced that he’s fucking with me.

Julian groans, throwing himself back in the passenger seat and running his hand through his inky black hair. “Listen to me,” he grits out. “If you look down at the pavement directly, you’ll crash. Just trust me.”

I laugh so hard my stomach hurts. “Trustyou? You can’t be serious.”

“I haven’t given you any reason not to,” he says, picking invisible lint off his shirt.

“Right,” I snort. “Other than practically threatening to hurt Aidan if I don’t behave. Forcing me to marry you and lying to my father, who isdying. And continually making me heel like your bitch to save the people I care about.”

“Sounds to me like I’ve been nothing but honest.” He shrugs.

“I— ” Closing my mouth, I purse my lips.

He’s not wrong, I guess.

“Try again,” he soothes. “Just slowly press down on the gas. No need to get mad at it. She reacts better when you make her purr.” He brushes his hand against the dash.

Rolling my eyes at how sexual he makes his car sound, I take a deep breath, glancing around to make sure the parking lot we’re in is still empty. The last thing I need is for anyone else to see me try and fail at something most people know how to do.

Swallowing down the nerves, I do as he says, keeping my gaze trained in front of me instead of down at the road this time.

“Good,” he says when the car rolls forward.

Pride sparks in my middle.I’m doing it.

I accelerate slowly,veryslowly, as in we’re going ten miles per hour tops. I’m going in a straight line and sitting in the driver’s seat, and suddenly, I’ve never felt more independent and powerful in my life. Which in turn makes me feel silly, because it’s such a simple thing.

“Perfect,” he continues. “Now turn to the right. You want the car to follow you, not the other way around.”

My left hand lifts from the wheel, gliding over the top to try to turn it.